Today I was excited about going to work. More than excited even… Super stoked. It meant that I was out of bed and feeling 60% better than I had in previous weeks as I had spent 9 days horizontal, and not because I am a plank of wood or a porn star. That’s around 216 hours, 12960 seconds, and nearly a million heart beats.
My illness didn’t have a name, it was villain cloaked and masked. But it did manage to chew up my immune system and spit it out, leaving me fatigued and trapped in bed with DVD’s and trashy magazines.
Movement was minimal, thoughts were miserable and smiling was incomprehensible. A flicker of light was not appearing at the end of the tunnel.
After three doctors visits, two blood tests and pills popped, I took the advice from my Mum and flatmates and imbibed a glass of whiskey. The next morning I woke up feeling better. I wondered why my doctor hadn’t prescribed a bottle and whether Irish people ever get sick.
The bottom line is if it’s a sniffle or an on-going battle, being sick sucks and sometimes feels like the end of the world. But when you are better, boy it feels like you’ve won a prize for being the ‘Awesomest Person Ever’. It’s definitely something to look forward to and the make the most of.
So here’s to good health – Cheers!